


Caramel Frappe With Extra Whipped Cream

by kathrikat



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: First Time, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, NSFW, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathrikat/pseuds/kathrikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Burgerpants wants is his coffee. He never asked to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a challenge story, to write a love story in four parts, 400 words each. I hope it's alright, I finished it in a day.

Burgerpants scratches the back of his neck before he opens the door. The chilly evening air filled with smoke as he took his break.

Well, technically it _wasn'_ t his break, but Mettaton wasn't around to see so really, what was the difference? His aching nerves relaxed with each breath he took, the cold air that clung to his warm fur made it stand on end. The sweat from working so hard, cooled and set, giving off an even stronger smell of despair. He was in his element.

His baggy eyes stared down at his pudgy body. The chubby bundle he had to call a stomach jutted out, and left his composure sloppy. His must have looked like a complete slob to everyone who walked into the place. Not that it mattered, but he had always been told that the first impression is the most important. Especially when he was a single feline on the prowl.

Living alone in a small apartment wasn't exactly ideal.

Another puff of smoke and breath was let out as he leaned against the back door.

Whatever, having someone wasn't ideal either. It would just be more money to spend on someone and someone to care of and someone to greet him when he entered the darkened place he had to call home, and someone to say I love you to, and-

_God_ , he was lonely.

His droopy form watched the outside world shifting into night in the dips of a puddle, and he caught a glimpse of his miserable reflection. From his bloodshot eyes, to his wrinkled work clothes, all the way to his scuffed shoes. His eyes narrowed in disgust before letting his legs give a harsh stomp to it.

The way the water rippled out in even, _perfect_ strokes enraged him. He scoffed.

_Perfect_. That was the word wasn't it? He hated every aspect of it. Not only because it was the word that Mettaton used to describe himself repetitively, but because it was something he could never be.

He bit his cheek as the flame from the cigarette he had been smoking was put out in the fur of his forearm. There were several scars to match.

His watch indicated that he had been out for longer than he should. If Mettaton caught him like this, he'd be fired for sure. Although, Burgerpants wasn't so sure how bad that would be.


	2. The New Barista

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgerpants goes out for coffee, gets surprised by someone.

He practically screeches when his shift is over. He reeks of sweat, grease, and all kinds of other undignified things, but he doesn't care. The only thing on his mind is the sweet taste of a cold caramel frappe on his lips.

The fact that its the middle of winter, doesn't change his mind. He grabs his coat and carefully wraps the hand knit scarf around his neck. It was given to him by his mother, who received it from her mother. Or so he's told. It has sentiment all the same. He's worn it every cold day in the underground since he could remember. Which is a very long time.

The warmth from his lighter leaves a glow on his face, a type of brightness if you will. The cigarette smoke coats his lungs in an eager silence. He lets the tar flow out in a cool, sad breeze. Both events go unnoticed. 

The hunk of metal he is forced to call a boss, left a trail of perfect footprints where he walked. Burgerpants made sure ashes covered them. He cracked his knuckles on the way to the cafe. A nervous habit. One that seemed worse than his smoking.

Upon entering the small place, his smile was completely erased at the sight of the long line of people. He grimaced as the cold melted away, the frost that was almost colder than him falling off in a warm welcome. One that he didn't recognize.

"Welcome, how may I help you?"

He hadn't expected it. Hadn't expected the new barista. Tall. Taller than what you'd expect. Ears like a rabbit, but then not. And the smile. It was warm. The kind that made the feline forget that he had a horrible boss and the snow in his shoes. Only for a moment.

"I'll have a caramel frappe. Extra whipped cream on top."

He waited for the other to ask for his last bit of cash but was met with a concerned look. Oh boy.

"I don't mean to pry, but it's the middle of winter."

"And?" He asked.

"Well, it's cold out! Don't you want something to warm you up?"

Burgerpants leans in real close to the other, making sure the bags under his eyes were visible to the other who seemed to have absolutely none there. Too perfect.

"Listen buddy, I'm dead inside."

Promptly, the barista made his coffee.

 


	3. A Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After going through café for a while, our feline protagonist had a sudden realization overcome him.

Burgerpants continued to go back to the café. Everyday after work he'd get his caramel frappe and everyday that barista was there. Still ever greeting. Still ever smiling. Burgerpants grimaced every time he had to see the guy.

He wasn't bad looking either. Muscular, but not too muscular. Lean. Looks like you could break him by breathing on him. His speech was soft, and yet he got his point across. Sometimes when he got an angry customer, Burgerpants would watch him roll his eyes and use gestures more often to express himself. It was funny to watch him quirk brows at others stupidity.

Burgerpants knew the feeling all too well. It was like this feeling of being superior but underneath the customer all the same. The feline liked to compare it to being dead inside. He liked to compare a lot of things to that feeling.

Most of his life was that feeling. Love was like that feeling. Dead inside. Especially if the other person has no idea you exist, even if you see them everyday, order the same thing in front of them.

That wasn't it. Love wasn't that. Love was remembering things the other doesnt know about themselves. Pizza nights. Holding hands. Forehead kisses. Making something worth while with the other person. _That_ was love.

He sipped his overly sweet drink and scowled. It was also something he feared he would never achieve. Neither with himself or someone else.

Another sip, and a knowing swept over him. Life, was short. It was the longest thing he'd ever experience, but it was short. He glanced at the shortly known barista. Good looking. Seemingly had his life together. Was happy. Burgerpants and him were exact opposites.

He felt the notepad he always carried in his pocket. He was never one to take spontaneous action. Maybe today was the day he was going to change that. _Life is too short._ The pen shook as he wrote the number down. The barista continued to take orders.

He had a beautiful realization.

Burgerpants realized that he actually _liked_ someone.

He waited until the guy was off work, (whom he now knew as Danny from the name tag he wore) and worked up the courage to approach him.

With all his will he tapped the other on the shoulder. The barista turned and Burgerpants saw his moment.

"Do you want to go out sometime?"

 


	4. An End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgerpants knows he his loved.

Burgerpants wasn't perfect. He didn't have the best concept on how life worked, and maybe he wasn't the best looking. He didn't have perfectly shaped thighs, or face. His nose was crooked. His hands were calloused. His body was scarred. The feline hated these things, but he also knew that they were normal things.

He knew Mettaton wasn't perfect, either. As much as he had idolized his boss, and saw him as this rendition of perfect, he really wasn't. His body was metal, dents traced along it like chalk. His voice glitched. A lot. He was just able to hide these things around other people. Perfection doesn't make you relatable.

Burgerpants taught himself that, and Danny helped with him. Danny helped with a lot of things. After their first date they saw each other a lot more. Burgerpants left his house for once. Danny took him to movies, parks, restaurants, anywhere. Spoiled him like a brat. It left Burgerpants blushing like a fool everytime he got home.

And then Danny suggested that he come over to his place sometime. Burgerpants accepted. A movie was turned on, popcorn kernels stuck in teeth. It lead to laughing, and then it lead to touching. Adrenaline filled hands touching thighs, kisses along the jawline. Undignified noises from both parties. Being pushed into the couch, hands trailing down your side. Sweet nothing's kneaded into your ears.

Turns out Danny was pretty skilled in this field, on the other hand, Burgerpants bumbled around and almost ended up ruining the mood. He'd never been this way with someone before. He'd never had someone tell him "You look so good when you're being fucked, BP." He never had someone tell him "I love you." afterwards, either.

He'd never been told "I love you" at all. Ever. His parents weren't around long enough to do it, friends in school were non existent. This was the first time he'd ever been told those three words, let alone during his first time in the throes of ecstasy.

Talk about killing two birds with one stone am I right?

In all seriousness though, Burgerpants knew that what Danny said was true. After all the nights sleeping alone, thinking he was useless, getting off on his misery and some semi nude pics he found in a magazine, to being cared of, and spoiled, and loved?

Burgerpants knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

 


End file.
